


Sandwiches, Spiders and Fires (Idiot!Sting X Reader)

by SilentWolf76



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Firemen, Flamethrowers, Humor, Idiots, Other, Sandwiches, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 09:51:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentWolf76/pseuds/SilentWolf76
Summary: When you go over to Sting's house, you get dragged into a series of unfortunate events. As in reaching for a sandwich, getting a giant spider instead, finds out something rather...interesting, then a flamethrower comes out of nowhere and before you know it, you and Sting are stood outside while firemen put out the fire.And all this started from a sandwich.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a Human!AU– basically our world. You get me?
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Fairy Tail

Stifling a yawn, you checked your phone for like the hundredth time. You’d texted your friend, asking when you were going over to his house (which you’d both been planning for about a week or so), and he had yet to reply.  
You weren’t really tired, but it was more a case of boredom and impatience (you’re _very_ impatient by the way).  
  
DING.  
  
Glancing at your phone, your expression lit up as you saw that Sting had _finally_ replied:  
  
_Come over whenever you wanp._  
  
You facepalmed after reading it. For starters, he’d made a mistake; it’s ‘want’, not ‘wanp’. You were precise about these things.  
  
Another thing was the last time you’d gone to his house ‘whenever you wanted’, he’d been in the shower, thought you were a burglar and then proceeded to rugby-tackle you to the ground while being stark naked. You shuddered at the memory and thought, _it can’t be as bad as last time, right?_  
  
So you stood up, grabbed your phone and walked out your house, locking the door behind you.  
  
~At Sting’s house~  
  
After knocking a total of seven times, the door slowly opened, revealing a tired and confused-looking Sting.  
  
“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” He mumbled.  
  
You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you remember? We planned for me to come over tonight and you said to come over whenever I wanted.”  
  
Sting frowned. “It’s night-time already?”  
  
Now you frowned as well. “Yeah…why?”  
  
He shrugged. “I just woke up.”  
  
You blinked a couple of times. “But you texted me about half an hour or so ago.”  
  
“Meh. I must have done it in my sleep.”  
  
“That would explain the spelling mistake.” You muttered to yourself, but he heard.  
  
“What are you on about?”  
  
You shook your head. “Nothing.”  
  
Sting raised an eyebrow but stood to the side. “You’d better come on in.”  
  
“Cheers. That’s so thoughtful of you.” You replied sarcastically, walking past him.  
  
After Sting closed the door, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a huge bag of different crisp packets.  
“Want one?” He offered, holding the bag out to you.  
  
“Sure.” You reached in, grabbed one of the packets, and opened it. It was (crisp/flavour), your favourite.  
  
As you quietly ate your crisps, the irritating sound of crisps being devoured ridiculously loud filled your ears. And of course, the source was Sting.  
  
You sighed with annoyance and said, “Sting. Could you _please_ eat your crisps _quieter_?”  
  
“Whfa? Whfa dah yagh pfea?” He mumbled around a mouthful of crisps.  
  
“That’s not even classed as a human language.”  
  
He swallowed before repeating, “I said ‘what do you mean’. Duh.”  
  
“Yeah. Cause I could have got _that_ from ngrghnrh.”  
  
“Hey! I didn’t do _that_!”  
  
You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”  
  
A couple of minutes passed, you two just eating your crisps (Sting a bit quieter), until the blonde broke the silence. “Hey, (Y/n).”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“You have long arms, don’t you?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Do. You. Have. Long. Arms?”  
  
“I guess…why?”  
  
“I dropped something behind a cupboard, and I can’t get it.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“A sandwich.”  
  
“ _What_?” You were unable to comprehend what Sting said.  
  
“A sandwich.” He repeated.  
  
“How can you drop a _sandwich_ behind a _cupboard_?!”  
  
“I saw a cucumber.”  
  
“A…what?”  
  
“A cucumber.”  
  
“Er…”  
  
“It scared me, and I dropped my sandwich.”  
  
“How can a _cucumber_ scare you?”  
  
“It was green.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“Snakes are green.”  
  
You put two and two together and sniggered. “You thought a _cucumber_ was a _snake_?”  
  
“Yeah. Cats do as well.”  
  
“How would _you_ know that?”  
  
He rubbed the bottom of his nose proudly. “I’m an expert.”  
  
“Obviously not at standard intelligence, thought.” You muttered under your breath.  
  
“What did you say?” Sting’s voice turned threatening.  
  
“Nothing!” You replied a little too quickly.  
  
“So will you get my sandwich or not?”  
  
“Ugh! Fine! I swear, you’re so strange sometimes.”  
  
You then proceeded to follow your blue-eyed friend out of the front room and into his medium-sized kitchen. You both walked over to a cupboard in the corner, which had about a 9cm gap between the back and the wall.  
  
“I can’t fit my hand through that gap.” You stated.  
  
“You have to.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“It’s your destiny.”  
  
“To get a sandwich?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Wow.” You remarked. “My destiny sucks.”  
  
“You might get another destiny if you do this.”  
  
You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Really? You can get more than one destiny?”  
  
Sting nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Now, rescue my sandwich!”  
  
You, thinking that this was actually your destiny, got down on your hands and knees and stretched your arm out behind the cupboard. Surprisingly, your arm actually fit through the gap.  
  
When your arm was pretty far in, you felt something brush your fingers. Thinking it was the sandwich, you grabbed it, only for it to feel long and thin. _Cucumber? No, cucumbers are thicker. Hang on – did it just move?_  
  
You released the strange object, only to feel something start to crawl up your arm.  
  
Squealing in terror, you yanked your arm back, but the creature hung onto your arm and it ended up flying into your chest.  
  
…  
  
…  
  
It was a tarantula.  
  
Screaming, you shot up, causing the giant spider to fly into the cupboard door.  
  
Your two eyes locked with its eight, and you abruptly fainted.  
  
Sting, who had been fiddling with a flamethrower (God knows why the hell he would have one anyway) through the entire thing, glanced over when he heard a _thud_.  
  
Looking down, he spotted you on the floor.  
  
“(Y/n)? What are you doing on the floor?”  
  
You opened your eyes, and after hearing that, you glared at him.  
  
But when you remembered why you fainted, you squeaked in fright and leaped at him, clutching his shoulder. “S-Sting! S-s-spider!” You stuttered.  
  
He raised an eyebrow. “A spider? You fell over because of a little spider?”  
  
“I _fainted_ ,” you corrected, “and it was _scary_!”  
  
Frowning, he looked for the spider. “Come on, (Y/n), it can’t be that bi- holy cow, that’s _huge_!” He gaped at the massive tarantula clinging to his cupboard door.  
  
Then he frowned. “Larry?”  
  
“ _Larry_?” You asked, thoroughly confused.  
  
Sting’s eyes widened, and he approached the spider, dropping the flamethrower in the process. “Larry!”  
  
“HISSSSSS!” ‘Larry’ replied angrily.  
  
Sting immediately leapt back, falling over as well.  
  
“Larry? Don’t you remember me?”  
  
“Hissss.”  
  
“You must remember Gary.”  
  
“Hissss.”  
  
“Come on, you should remember; you did eat him after all.”  
  
“Hiss?” The spider frowned thoughtfully, before shaking its head. “Hissss.”  
  
“ _What_?!” You yelled, quite frankly creeped out by the fact that your friend was having a conversation with a tarantula.  
  
Sting glanced at you. “I had two pet spiders – Larry and Gary. Long story short, Larry ate Gary and then went missing.”  
  
“Okayyyy…”  
  
“It’s a family reunion.”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
Sting grinned and began to walk towards Larry again. He bent down until his face was level with Larry, and said in a deep voice, “Larry, I am your father.”  
  
Larry facepalmed at Sting’s Star Wars reference, and then proceeded to bite Sting on the nose.  
  
Sting screamed, leapt back, grabbed the flamethrower, and in one quick move turned it on and aimed it at Larry.  
  
Your jaw nearly hit the floor when he did this.  
  
“I’m sorry, Larry, my son! Daddy loves you, but this is the way it has to be!” Sting shouted above the roar of the flames.  
  
Sting didn’t realise that the cupboard Larry was clinging to was on fire.  
  
However, he did notice when half the kitchen was burning.  
  
“AHHHH! I SET THE CUPBOARD ON FIRE!”  
  
“AND HALF THE KITCHEN!” You yelled.  
  
Sting stared at the rest of his burning kitchen, silent for a moment, before shouting, “AHHHH! MY KITCHEN’S ON FIRE!”  
  
He quickly turned the flamethrower off and started running around like a headless chicken.  
  
“STING! CALM DOWN!” You ordered.  
  
He pointed an accusing finger at you, stopping in his tracks. “Why didn’t you stop me?!”  
  
“I didn’t expect you to do that!”  
  
“AGH!”  
  
“What?!”  
  
“It burnsssssssssssss!” He hissed.  
  
“Sunlight?”  
  
“No! Well, yes, but at the moment it’s the fire!”  
  
That was when you caught sight of the sleeve of his shirt, which was currently on fire.  
  
“Take your shirt off!” You ordered.  
  
Despite the situation, Sting smirked. “That’s what she said.”  
  
You blushed, but then yelled, “This isn’t the time for jokes! Call the fire station!”  
  
“What’s their number?”  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You facepalmed, before grabbing his arm and leading him out of the kitchen, and into the front room.  
  
When you were both out, you slammed the door shut. Your expression grew concerned as Sting’s knees buckled and he started coughing violently.  
  
You coughed lightly into your hand. You didn’t breathe too much smoke in, as you’d more or less been at the other end of the kitchen, but you still had the urge to cough.  
  
You grabbed your phone, which you’d fortunately left in the front room, and dialled 999, saying that your friend’s kitchen’s on fire.  
  
You hung up and tossed your phone onto the couch, before kneeling beside Sting.  
  
“Sting? Hey, can you hear me?”  
  
He panted a bit, and nodded shakily. The coughing fit had subsided, and he was just getting his breath back.  
  
“Oh God – your shirt!” You’d completely forgot that his shirt sleeve was on fire, and by now it had spread to his shoulder.  
  
You grabbed the bottom of Sting’s shirt and yanked it up and over his head, both sleeves going with it.  
  
You threw the shirt to the floor and reached for a glass of water that you’d got earlier (definitely not plot convenience or anything), before pouring it on the shirt and quickly putting out the small fire.  
  
~Fifteen minutes later~  
  
The firemen arrived on the scene and immediately took action.  
  
You and Sting stood there, gazing at the fire, which had consumed the kitchen and was now invading other rooms.  
  
“Well, that happened.” Sting said in a monotone voice.  
  
You glanced at him. “You don’t sound very upset by the fact that your house is burning down.” You replied in an equally monotone voice.  
  
“Sting shrugged. “I’m using my power.”  
  
You raised an eyebrow. “Power?”  
  
He nodded. “Selective Memory.”  
  
Your posture sagged a bit after that. “That’s not a power.”  
  
“Isn’t it?” He asked curiously. “Oh. I thought it was.”  
  
You didn’t reply, lost in thought, before your eyes widened. “Sting! Don’t you have a cat?!”  
  
He frowned at you, before nodding slowly. “Yeah. His name’s Lector.”  
  
“Is he still inside?!” You asked, a little hysterical.  
  
“Er…” He tapped his chin, before shaking his head. “No.”  
  
You sighed with relief.  
  
“I lost him.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“Behind a cupboard.”  
  
“Oh my – how can you lose a _cat_ behind a _cupboard_?! And that means he’s still inside!”  
  
“Well-”  
  
He was cut off when a firemen walked over. “Excuse me, can you tell me how this fire started?”  
  
Sting pointed at you, answering like a little kid blaming someone else, “It’s (Y/n)’s fault!”  
  
“How is it?!” You yelled at him.  
  
He faced you. “You sneezed!”  
  
“I did no- I’m sorry, did you just say I sneezed?”  
  
“Yeah, you possess the power of Explosive Sneezing.”  
  
“That doesn’t exist!” You sighed and rubbed your temples in annoyance. It seemed that Sting was giving you a headache.  
  
You turned to the fireman. “Actually, a spider bit my friend here and he used a…flamethrower…” You trailed off, realising how crazy it sounded.  
  
The fireman placed a hand on your shoulder. “Please tell the truth. There’s no way your friend wold have a flamethrower at his age.”  
  
Suddenly, a young fireman ran out the house, carrying something. “Sir! I found a flamethrower! It must be the cause of the fire!”  
  
The first fireman removed his hand from your shoulder, grumbling something inaudible, and walked off.  
  
“Hey, Sting. Do you think Lector died in this?”  
  
“Yeah.” He replied, his eyes distant.  
  
You frowned, about to comfort him, when he whipped out a random phone and dialled a number. “Hello. I’d like to arrange a double funeral.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Yeah. That means two deceased.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Their names are Larry and Lector.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Last names? Well, they were my sons, so their last names would both be Eucliffe.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Thank you. I’m sorry for my loss too.”  
  
“…”  
  
“Sizes? For coffins? Er, they’d have to be small.”  
  
“…”  
  
“They’re not midgets! That’s just rude! And the reason why is because of what they are.”  
  
“…”  
“Well, one’s a cat and the other’s a spider.”  
  
The person on the other end abruptly hung up.  
  
“Huh? That’s weird.” Sting mumbled.  
  
“What was that about?” You asked.  
  
“I rang the funeral directors, but for some reason, they hung up.”  
  
“I wonder why.” You muttered sarcastically.  
  
Sting was about to reply, but was interrupted by a fireman saying that the fire had been successfully put out.  
  
“AH! I FORGOT! MY HOUSE BURNED DOWN!” Sting grabbed either side of his head with his hands, before wincing and clutching one arm, which was badly burnt.  
  
“Oh yeah. I also forgot about my arm being burnt.”  
  
“How can you forget _that_?!” You asked exasperatedly.  
  
Sting tapped his temple with his non-burnt hand. “Selective Memory.”  
  
You sighed and dropped your head, resisting the urge to facepalm.  
  
“We should get that arm of yours to a doctor. But first, put a shirt on.”  
  
“But (Y/n), they all probably got burnt!” He whined.  
  
“I highly doubt it. Shirt. Now.”  
  
Sighing dramatically, Sting headed to his front door, only to be held back by a fireman. He told Sting that he couldn’t go in yet, so the blonde returned to you, wearing a smug expression.  
  
“What’s that face for?!” Your eyes went white and your teeth grew sharp as you shouted at him.  
  
“Guess I’ll have to go shirtless.” He walked past you, adding over his shoulder, “Oh, and (Y/n)? Try not to stare too much.”  
  
You face went bright red, and you quick-walked after him, replying defensively, “I haven’t been staring at all!”  
  
“You were practically drooling.”  
  
“I don’t drool! That’s so gross!”  
  
“Sure. And I kill innocent creatures.” He countered sarcastically, completely forgetting about his pets.  
  
“But you just killed your cat and your spider.” You pointed out.  
  
Sting immediately burst into tears. “Lector! Larry! Daddy loves you!” He wailed to the sky.  
  
You shook your head, a faint smile playing on your lips. “This is by far the craziest night I’ve ever had.”  
  
But at least you’d learnt a few things from that night.  
  
1 – Keep all flamethrowers away from Sting Eucliffe.  
  
2 – Sting loses a strange variety of things behind cupboards.  
  
3 – Spiders are terrifying (like you didn’t already know though).  
  
4 – Sting is an absolute idiot at times.  
  
But overall, he’s still your best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Finished! This was supposed to be serious, but I made it stupidly random (as usual) by accident.
> 
> Sorry for any OOCness, but this is me we’re talking about. You expect me to make the characters normal?


End file.
